


Like This

by dietplainlite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attorney AU, Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, F/M, Law Firm AU, Reylo - Freeform, Vaginal Sex, Vehicular Sex, the in universe law firm au you didn't know you wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-07 08:30:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15904638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietplainlite/pseuds/dietplainlite
Summary: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...Peace reigns in the galaxy.  Seriously. The Imperial Remnant fizzled out. There is no First Order. There is no Snoke. The worst thing Ben Solo's ever done was some light brawling. The kids are, as they say, more or less alright.Still, the Force has plans for Ben and Rey, which is how they find themselves working for the same civil rights firm, thrown together in a stakeout van.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The draft of this is complete so have no fear about updates!

_Lovers don't finally meet somewhere, they're in each other all along._

_\--Rumi_

 

* * *

 

The speeder van smells like fish and feet, though they’ve only been on the stakeout for two hours, and both occupants still have their shoes on.

“You’re aware of how foul those crisps smell, right?” Ben solo says to his colleague. He would sit on the other side of the van if he could still see the monitors, but it probably wouldn’t help matters anyway.

“If by foul, you mean delicious, then yes,” she says. “You can always open a window if it’s so offensive.”

“Oh, you’re funny.” The air in the industrial sector is just as foul and almost as dangerous as the air inside the van.

“I’ve been told,” she says, turning the monitor back on and mercifully shoving the last of the crisps in her mouth.

Rey Niima is always eating. When they met, she had a plate with a piece of cake on it in one hand and a cup of punch in the other, and he hasn’t seen her without something to snack on since. Her desk is full of snacks, and not only in the biggest drawer, which she calls her official Snack Stash. There are packets and boxes and tins hidden in almost every nook of her cube. He’s willing to bet that in the thirty minutes she was in the van before he arrived, she managed to hide a few treats among the surveillance equipment.  Within minutes of finishing the bag of crisps, she rummages around in her bag and pulls out a box of bofa treats.

“Why are we doing this anyway? Shouldn’t a private detective be out here?”

“They could barely afford to hire you, much less a PI for a low priority case.” She holds out the box of bofa treats. “Want one?”

“Sure,” he says, taking a treat and ignoring the jibe about the case. He’s aware of how low he is in the hierarchy of the foundation. He’s lucky to have the job, considering how he left the last one (and the one before it) not to mention the fact he didn’t know anything about droids rights when he was hired. He puts his hood up, crosses his arms and settles back into his seat, wishing the swivel chair wasn’t bolted to the floor of the van, so he could move back far enough to put his feet on the desk.

They’re supposed to observe two shift changes at the fuel cell factory across the street, and there’s still an hour before the first one. When Rey offers him an entire bag of potato sticks, he accepts with a defeated shrug.  It’s going to be a long night, and he’d only packed water and bantha jerky.

* * *

 

It’s not that Rey doesn’t like Ben Solo, it’s just that when he first showed up, he had the stench of nepotism hovering around him like flies around a happabore patty. Her suspicions were first aroused when their boss, Elle Calrissian, introduced him to the office, talking up his academic record without mentioning a single thing he’d done since graduating. His age was hard to gauge, but he’d been out of school for at least five years. Had he not worked on one notable case the entire time? Elle didn’t even mention where he’d worked before.

She didn’t get a chance to ask when they were introduced, because she was busy juggling the plate and cup in her hand, but she did notice his firm handshake and large hands, as well as the crisp, expensive lines of his black tunic and trousers.

Back at her desk that afternoon, she searched the holonet and discovered that not only was his specialty trade law, but he’d been fired from his last two positions due to fist fights in the court room.

The L337 Foundation may have been desperate for warm bodies, since droids’ rights is not a profitable or particularly rewarding field, but the board couldn’t have been that desperate. He had to be someone’s friend or family.

Her search was interrupted b a beep, followed by a tiny hologram of Rose Tico popping up in front of her.

“Are you on headset?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. I know you’re wondering, too. Everyone is. Dameron’s parents were in the Rebellion with Solo’s parents, and he said that Elle’s dad has been friends with Solo’s dad since way before that.”

“Seriously?Wait. Solo as in Han Solo? The smuggler?”

“Yes, and his mom’s a senator. You’ve seen the other stuff? Work history?”

“Yes!” Rey peeked over her cube wall and into the break room window, where Solo was acquainting himself with the antiquated caf machine, without much hope of making a cup. “I wonder what happened during the war that Elle’s dad owes anyone that big a favor.”

“I’ll get Finn on it. He’s obsessed with the Galactic Civil War.”

 

Rey looks over at her colleague and smiles at his choice of disguise. They’re supposed to blend in with the slicers and glitz punks who frequented the speakeasies in the sector, listening to bands and wreaking havoc on the holonet. His usual black works, of course, and he’s gone all out with the rest of it. He’s traded his usual tunic for an asymmetric hooded sweater with tight pleating on the sleeves and cuffs that drape to mid-palm. His trousers are tighter than usual and accompanied by heavy boots, and she’s certain he’s wearing a touch of eyeliner. The biggest change, however, is his hair, which is usually fluffed and curled to perfectly frame his long face. Tonight, he’s got it half pulled up, the rest hanging in loose waves.

“Can I help you?” he asks, not turning his head from the monitor.

“Oh,” she says, caught staring. “You remember what we’re looking for?”

“Yeah. Droids that are uncertified or unsuited to factory work. Though I’m still not sure why we care.”

“You’ve worked for the Foundation for a month. What are you confused about?”

“Well,” he says, “If they want to work in a factory, isn’t it their right to do so?”

“They don’t all have a choice. They’re being forced to work there. And even the ones who aren’t being actively forced or coerced don’t really have a choice, because they’ve been forced into obsolescence in their fields by the very people who made them. As a society, we create droids to assist us with so many things, and then we just discard them with no care. It’s irresponsible and it has to stop.”

“Do you really think you’re goin to change how the entire galaxy treats droids?”

“Maybe not, but I can change how this factory does. Let me ask you this: did your family have droids working for them?”

“Of course,” he says, as though everyone can afford it.

She shakes off her annoyance at his presumption to ask if he ever made friends with any of them.

“I guess, yeah. Some of them were considered family.”

“Then why don’t you think they deserve rights?”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Then what are you saying.”

“I guess I just haven’t thought about it that much until I started working at L3.”

Rey doubts this very much but drops it. Better to pick up the line of questioning when he’s dropped his guard. At least that’s what her professors would say.

* * *

 

Rey isn’t even an attorney yet, and she’s got him in a corner.  She looks like she’s going to press him further, but decides against it for now, shaking her head. “I guess the apple does fall far from the tree then.” Her face brightens at that, and pulls two apples out of her bag, tossing one his way.  

“Do you ever stop eating?”

“When I’m sleeping.”

“Do you have some kind of parasite or…”

She sets the bag down and looks at him with her sharp dark eyes. “Was there anything you couldn’t eat when you were little? Or could only have a little of?”

“Ice cream,” he says. “It upset my stomach, but I always wanted it.”

“When you eat it now, as a grownup, I bet you eat as much as you want, whenever you want, right?”

“Yes, stomach ache and all.”

“That’s how I feel about almost everything.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

It all comes together for him, then. He knew about her being an orphan, a former Jakku scavenger, but for some reason, it never occurred to him what that meant for her.

“Don’t be sorry. I may have had a shitty life, but my parents were alcoholics. Maybe abandoning me was for the best and I’m better off.”

“Maybe.”

“But what about you? Why didn’t your parents raise you? They had money and connections.”

“Family tradition.”

“Oh, like a cultural thing?” She finishes her apple and he realizes she ate straight through it, core and all. For a moment he’s too shocked to speak. She mistakes his silence for offense and apologizes.

“I was joking," he says. "My mom and uncle were separated and hidden from their father when they were born.”

“Ouch.”

“It wasn’t nearly as bad for me. I knew who they were, and I saw them pretty frequently. They just figured I’d have more stability on Naboo with my aunts rather than going with them on their adventures or being left at home. There was a galaxy to rebuild, after all.”

He keeps his tone light, but he can tell by the furrow in her brow she’s not convinced.

“You can be mad about it. I get mad about my parents all the time. I mean, couldn’t they have stopped adventuring, for you?”

“I don’t know. Could your parents have stopped drinking?”

“You have a point, Solo.”

The way she stretches out the syllables of his name reminds him of something he’s been meaning to ask her.

“How did you end up with a core accent raised on Jakku?”

“I don’t know. How did you not end up with one raised on Naboo?”

He doesn’t have an answer, either, so he goes back to watching the factory. Rey doesn’t.

“What?” he asks, when she’s been looking at him for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“I’m curious about something, but I don’t know how to ask.”

“So, try asking.”

“Well, I’ve seen you get frustrated at work, and last week in court, but you’ve never come close to getting violent.  But you got fired for fighting in court. Is there something about trade law that makes you want to beat the crap out of opposing counsel?”

“It wasn’t opposing counsel.”

“What?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten fired for that, at either place. They probably would have given me a promotion.”

“Who did you fight?”

“Co-counsel.”

“At two different firms?”

“They were bastards.”

She waits for him to elaborate. He doesn’t.

“Bastards. Right,” she says, and turns back to her monitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came about because of a challenge I set for myself to have fun within the SW universe, by writing in-universe AUs using whatever modern AU tropes I'm tempted to write. It was definitely a lot of fun so I'll probably do more of these in the future.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben is dozing when the factory whistle goes off, startling him awake. Rey is already at the console, adjusting cameras, zooming in, and recording images. The van is not state-of-the-art, but it is equipped with powerful cameras; discreet but able to capture droid serial numbers from a hundred meters away.  He mans his console, and between them they document over two dozen possible unauthorized or unsuitable droids. The work is tedious, but, as Rey explained when they got the assignment, the point isn’t to storm in and liberate the factory, but to collect the evidence needed to enforce labor codes and win lawsuits.

The first shift change is over in fifteen minutes, and the next shift begins in eight hours. Unfortunately, they have to spend that time with the van. It’s too valuable to leave unattended, and they can’t risk losing their prime parking spot.  Plus, there’s always the possibility of capturing other shady behavior on the part of the factory owners or managers.

Rey stretches her arms above her head and cracks her neck.  “I’m going to use the ‘fresher at that Admiral Snackbar’s down the block.”

“Biscuit Baron’s closer.”

“Biscuit Baron’s facilities are always disgusting. I did enough squatting on Jakku, so no thanks. Do you want anything while I’m out?”

“I’m good,” he says, holding up a bottle of water.

“Suit yourself,” she says, and slides the door closed.

Ben watches her on the monitor until she disappears from the frame, then heaves an enormous sigh.

Rey Niima is a whiz kid; a prodigy in flowing grey garments, her dimples a welcome sight even when she openly mocks him. A paralegal who goes to night school, she knows more about galactic law than he does with his advanced degree from the galaxy’s top academy.

Fragrant snacking habits aside, being in such a small space with her is excruciating. He already finds himself staring at her for two long at the office, in her loose-fitting trousers and high-necked sweaters, but tonight she’s traded her conservative office attire in for black leggings and a sleeveless tunic.  The tunic’s neckline swoops gracefully below her collar bones, and though it hangs loosely, the entire back is sheer, which has been incredibly distracting. Her hair is in its usual three buns, but with her darker makeup and heavy boots, it looks edgy rather than pulled together.

If he’d been given the choice, he would have turned down this assignment, but he’s a slave to Uncle Lando’s whims as long as he’s president of the Board. And it’s not like he had other pressing plans tonight.  He would have been in the empty office, slogging through his ever-growing backlog and playing back every conversation he’d had with her in his head until the words didn’t make sense anymore.

Idly, he uses the Force to pick up the pile of brightly colored candy wrappers surrounding Rey’s chair, sweeping them up and swirling them around in a tiny vortex. He spins them faster and faster, sorting them by color until he’s created a whirling rainbow. It’s a trick he learned early on, one he used to calm himself, imagining his fear being sucked into the middle and funneled elsewhere in the universe. He felt guilty sometimes, because he didn’t know where the fear ended up, if it went to someone else, and he was always afraid to ask his Uncle Luke about it, in case he had done something seriously wrong.

Mesmerized and lost in his memories, he misses Rey sliding the van door open.

“You can do it too?” she says.

The wrappers fall to the ground as he turns around. She’s holding a bulging, greasy bag and two cups of caf, mouth hanging open.

“Do what?” he says, lamely.

She laughs and scrambles into the van, setting the food aside and shoving the cups in his hands. She gestures with her hand, closing the van door, then reaches out. The candy wrappers rise and make a jerky ascent before bouncing off the ceiling and raining down.

“I always wanted to ask you, once I found out who your uncle is, but it didn’t seem polite. What if you couldn’t, and it was a sore point with you? Or what if you could but hated it and didn’t want to be reminded?” She sits in her chair and swivels to face him, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. “Did your uncle train you?”

“He wanted to, but my father said no.”

“Did you want to?”

“Not particularly.”

“Because your childhood dream was to go into trade law?”

Ben shrugs and looks at the ceiling. “That came later. My rebellion against my famous smuggler dad.”

“Huh,” she says. “I thought so.”

“Thought what?”

“It’s not that you never think about things like droid rights, you’re just trying to piss your parents off by doing the opposite of what they did. And since your parents were literal Rebels, you had to go the opposite way.”

She’s getting that look on her face, the same one she had when she was lecturing him about the importance of their assignment earlier, the same look she gets when she’s passionate about something at work. As much as he likes the flush in her cheeks and the gleam in her eyes, he’s not in the mood to be analyzed.

“Trade law isn’t all about helping big corporations and crime syndicates cheat people. Sometimes it’s about preventing them from exploiting people and planets.”

“Of course. But, what firms did you work for again?”

“Okay, you got me. But forget all of that. What else can you do? With the Force?”

Her smile fades and she leans over to pick up the forgotten bag of food. “I went to Biscuit Baron for the food since Snackbar only has caf and pastries. Though I got some pastries, too.” She pulls a smaller bag from the Biscuit Baron bag and sets it on the desk. “I think I got your caf order right,” she continues, gesturing to the cups, still in his hands. “It’s been a while since I had to play assistant.”

“Black with a dash of chocolate?”

“Yes. Maybe more than a dash though.  In fact, it may be half hot cocoa and half caf.”

“I’ll live,” he says, handing her the one with her name scrawled on it, though it’s spelled R-Y-E. “How do you take ours?”

“Lots of cream and sugar, obviously.”

As they eat, Rey tells him about how she managed to get off Jakku.  After a sand storm, she uncovered a light freighter with a working reactor. It needed repairs, but with the help of a couple of other scavengers, she got the ship in working order.

“So, you all just flew away together one day?”

Rey laughs and pulls another sandwich from the bag. “Oh, no. They totally screwed me over. The original idea was to sell it, but they decided to fly away while I was negotiating the price.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Rey.”

She shrugs. “Don’t be. I’m over it. And I should have taken one of them with me. Though honestly who knows if whoever was in the ship would have screwed us both over.”

How could someone ever trust anyone again after being abandoned over and over like that? No wonder she’s so closed off. He’s seen her laughing and having fun with her friends in the break room, and sometimes she’s sarcastic with him, but most of the time at work, she’s friendly but professional.  Until tonight, they’d never talked about anything other than work.

“What happened after that?” he asks.

“I decided I was finished with Jakku and everyone on it. I had it in my head that my parents were coming back for me, which is the only reason I didn’t get off planet sooner. Devi and Strun, they were so much like my parents, now that I think about it, which is probably why I trusted them. And then they turned out to be selfish opportunists, too. I knew that even if they ever did come back I’d probably spit in their faces. So, I sold my speeder and everything of value I had and got on the first ship I could.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he offers her the cookie that came with his sandwich.  “Did you already know, then, about your powers?”

She sighs and looks down, breaking the cookie into four parts. “Why do you want to know about it so badly?”

“I hardly ever run into anyone like me. It was mostly my uncle and my mom, until Luke decided he might try training some people. I feel like he’s always trying to proselytize, and she’ll barely acknowledge she has any powers.”

“Why would she, considering what happened to the Jedi?”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?”

She jerks her head up, eyes hard and wet. “I’m not afraid of anything; it’s just none of your business.”

He holds his hands up and backs off. “Sorry. I won’t ask again.”

They turn back to their monitors and the silence stretches out until interrupting it for anything less than earth-shattering seems impossible.  After a few minutes, Rey pulls out her data pad and begins working on a class assignment.

For a moment, he thought he’d finally bridged the gap that separated him from other people, but now the gulf is wider than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments on the last chapter! I'm glad this concept worked!
> 
> Also, I wish I could, but I can't take credit for "Admiral Snackbar" or "Biscuit Baron." Those are just two of the delightful things a person can discover wandering around Wookieepedia.


	3. Chapter 3

Halfway through a chapter on the Pike Syndicate Mine Revolt on Kessel, Rey looks up from her school assignment, catching Ben mid-stretch. He arches back and stretches his tall frame, his hands grazing the ceiling. He’s built so beautifully; a subject Rose and she have delved into more than once after a few rounds of drinks. She wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the firm with an interest in human males had delved into that subject. So far, however, there’s no indication anyone in the office has done more than talk and look, and he hasn’t shown any interest in anyone either, not even Rose’s sister, Paige. And everyone in the office has had a crush on Paige at some point.

It’s true that some people don’t go in for relationships and sex—she certainly didn’t have the time or inclination until after she left Jakku—but she does wonder what’s beneath his usually prim black clothes, and if anyone has ever had the pleasure of exploring it. Unfortunately, while she does have the inclination for relationships now, she’s only got time for sex, and he seems like a long-term kind of guy. The kind who’d want to go out for brunch on weekends and get a pet together. Which would all be amazing if she had more than about an hour a week to spare for herself.

Discovering he can manipulate the Force only makes him more appealing, and more dangerous.

He’s not as much of a twit as she first thought, though, and it would be nice to talk to someone, to find out which things she’s read about the Jedi and Sith and the Force are true. And maybe teach her some new tricks.

“I was thirteen.”

He looks up from his data pad, where Rey suspects he’s been working on a word puzzle rather than a case. “What?”

“The first time I moved something with my mind. I was scavenging and dropped a part. A really valuable one, too. Worth two days’ worth of food.” He looks at her, his dark eyes soft and serious. “I was about a hundred feet in the air on my rope, and nearly out of water. A climb down and back up would have been dangerous in the heat when I should have already been on my way home. And I remember reaching out as it tumbled down and wishing so hard that I had it back, and then, there it was, landing in my hand. I was so shocked I almost let go of the rope.”

“What did you do, after?”

“I thought I was delirious at first, like I’d imagined dropping it because I was so afraid of dropping it. So, when I got home, I tried again, and after a few tries, I moved a can of water across the room. I learned to use it to help me when I was working, but I hid it when I was around other people. I didn’t want them to be afraid of me.”

“I understand that feeling.”

“Force things are so weird on Jakku. The histories don’t get into everything that happened during the battle, and the stories told by locals are all written off as myths and ravings.  Like, there’s one old man who swears that Luke Skywalker as at the battle, pulling the Star Destroyers from the sky. And that Skywalker saved him by dragging him through the desert.”

He smiles. “The real stories are crazier.”

“I can only imagine. But it wasn’t just the old stories. There was also the Church to consider. I think I was more afraid of them getting me than anything else.”

“The Church of the Force?”

“You know about it?”

“A bit,” he says.  “Wait. Jakku.  Did you know Lor San Tekka?”

“I heard of him, but I avoided him especially.”

“He would have helped you.”

“Maybe,” she says.  Ben frowns and she hurries to explain. “The Church seemed so zealous in their belief that the Jedi would return, and I thought if they found out, I wouldn’t have a choice anymore.”

“I also understand that feeling.”

She looks at him, at the tears gathering in his eyes, and something wells up in her, so fast and strong, that the effort to contain it is physically painful.

“I’ve always been so alone,” she whispers. “I have friends, now, but I still haven’t stopped feeling that way.”

“You’re not alone.”

“Neither are you.”

He reaches out and wipes a tear from her cheek with his thumb. She gasps, and he starts to pull away, but she puts her hand over his.

“I’m your superior. And we’re technically at work.”

“You’re barely my superior. And I don’t care anyway,” she whispers, closing the distance between them.

 

Ben Solo is excellent at kissing. Considering the size and shape of his mouth, it would have been disappointing if he weren’t at least competent. But this is beyond adequate, and well beyond good.

She’s never enjoyed having someone else’s tongue in her mouth before, but it’s clear now that no one she’s kissed before had known a damned thing about what they were doing.  He uses his tongue to tease rather than invade, barely brushing it against her own.

Mostly, though, he uses his beautiful lips, nipping and kissing along her jaw and neck and collarbone until she’s breathless. She starts out standing between his legs, but the first time he sucks her bottom lip between his, her knees go weak and she climbs into his lap, hands buried in his hair, which she frees from its tie.

It’s been so long since she did this, that when he takes her ass in his hands and pulls her against him, while thrusting his hips against her, she’s afraid she’s going to fall apart on the spot. His dick is like an iron rod underneath her, pressing right against her poor, neglected clit.

But her reaction isn’t only from months of unreleased hormones. There’s something else buzzing around and between them, sending up sparks whenever they touch, and through it all, snippets of what might be his thoughts, or might be her own reflected back at her. All of it centered around want, and need, and underneath it, a current of relief, as if their bodies and souls were whispering, _Finally_.

In a single motion, he wraps one arm around her waist and lowers them both from the chair to the floor.

“Is this okay?” he asks, hovering above her.

She nods. “Take off your shirt.”

He rises to his knees, legs bracketing her waist, and pulls his shirt off.  He tosses it aside and looks down at her, giving her time to admire him as, he takes her leg and begins unlacing her boot. It’s better than she imagined; he looks bigger out of his clothes, though somehow broad and lean at the same time. She reaches up and spreads her hand flat across his abs, her thumb trailing up the line of hair that descends from his navel.  His muscles contract at her touch, and he takes a sharp breath as she tugs at his waistband.

“Is this what we’re doing?” he asks, putting one boot aside and starting on the other one.

“If you want.”

“Then I think you’d better take your shirt off, too.”

She chose this outfit carefully tonight, not only as a disguise, but because, frankly, she looks incredible in it. But she gladly takes it off, and he throws her other boot over his shoulder and has his hands on her breasts before they even have a chance to feel the chill.

“You’re amazing,” he says as she arches into his hands, and all she can do is sigh as he bends to take her nipple in his mouth. He’s so gentle and slow, not at all what she expected from this enormous man who breaks his data pad weekly, not from abuse but regular use, the edges cracking in his hands when he’s excited or stressed. A man who once broke the arm off an office chair out of excitement.

But maybe that’s why he’s so gentle, now, afraid of his strength as he palms her breast and squeezes her waist, as he gives her nipple a kiss before moving to the other one.

His hair tickles as it brushes her chest, and that detail, so specific and small, brings her thoughts back to this moment, and the smooth slope of his shoulders, and the woody fragrance of his hair and skin. He moves down her body, looking at her when he reaches her waistband. She nods, and the smile he flashes her before pulling down her leggings sends a spike of pleasure from her stomach to her toes.

This is the best bad decision she’s ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter count went up! Nothing changed with the plot, I just discovered more detail I wanted to put in. 
> 
> Thank you again for all of your kind comments!


	4. Chapter 4

 

When Ben woke up this morning, he had a vague hope that this assignment would provide the opportunity to become better acquainted with Rey. Even in his wildest dreams (and he’d had more than a few about her) he never imagined he would become this intimately acquainted with her. By the time he’s worked her through her second orgasm with his tongue, he knows not only the shape of her pubic hair and the taste and smell of her, but the way she covers her eyes with her forearm when she’s close to release. That she prefers when his tongue is flat against her, and isn’t enthusiastic about having his fingers inside her, but when he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks, she wails like she’s possessed and arches her back as everything in the van that isn’t bolted down—including Rey—rises into the air, then floats down as she gasps for air.

Gently, she pushes him away from her and he sits back on his heels. “Does that always happen?” he asks, gesturing to the mess in the van.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she looks around. “I don’t think so?”

Wisps of her hair have escaped their binding, curling and framing her sweat-sheened face, and the bottom bun has come loose altogether. He’s never seen he without her hair back, and the sight of it fanned around her shoulders, combined with her flushed cheeks and breasts and the scent of her all over him and the van is enough to make him weak with desire. He leans in and kisses her again, and she puts her arms around his neck, her hands in his hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says as he sits back, pulling her onto his lap. He cups her face in his hands and looks at her.

“You are, too,” she breathes, working her hands between them to get his trousers undone. Her hand brushing against him is excruciating, even with fabric between them, and when she gets her hand on his bare skin, the walls of the van groan with the energy he releases.  She looks around and smiles. “Please don’t blow us up before I get you inside me.”

He presses his forehead against hers. “You have to stop talking about that then,” he says, and pulls her in for another kiss, deeper and more powerful than before. In the midst of this, while he kisses her and strokes her back and whispers again how beautiful she is, she gets into position and sinks down onto him.

They both freeze when she’s fully seated, legitimately afraid the van is going to blow apart at the seams.  She looks in his eyes and he swears that in hers he sees the beginning and the end of time all at once.

“I never knew it could be like this,” she says.

He can’t speak, she feels so incredible around him, tight and hot and soft, so he puts his hands on her waist and tugs her forward. Whether that’s enough to convey his need, or she reaches into his brain and plucks the thought out, she understands, and begins to rock her hips against him, shallow strokes at first, lengthening as she gets used to his size. She leans back enough that he’s got a perfect view of her tits bouncing and his dick sliding in and out of her.

As her pace increases, he falls back to the floor, for an even better view, and so he can dig his heels in, gaining better purchase to fuck her.  She braces her hands on his chest, arms squeezing her breasts together, her mouth slack and eyes closed as their hips meet, again and again, the sound they’re making obscene in this small space. Her hair has fallen completely out of its ties, falling over him as she lays flush against him. She kisses him, almost absently. She’s so close to release that her mind has gone blank of everything but a bright, hot band of desire.

The van shakes and groans from more than just their movements, but he doesn’t care anymore. If they destroy the van, the city, the whole planet, it will have been worth it for this.

She cries out his name, the staccato movement of her hips lengthening again as she rides the waves of her orgasm, pulling him along with her as the tight band of his own desire snaps and dissolves. He swears he feels the van lift as though taking off, before settling with a thud.  He wraps his arms around her, eyes still closed, as though he could hold onto this moment and never let go.

 

* * *

 

 

Rey opens her eyes to find the van intact, though it looks like a pack of sugar-drunk toddlers have run through it, ransacking it in search of more sweets.

Now, as her breath slows and the sweat cools, is usually when the regret sinks in, the itch scratched, and all that’s left is the awkwardness of the aftermath.

Strangely, the only thing she regrets at the moment is fucking on a rough carpet. Her knees feel like someone’s pressing a vibro blade against them. She rolls off Ben and examines them. They’re red and raw and even oozing in some places.

“Fuck,” she says. “My knees are destroyed.”

“Let me look,” he says, sitting up and flicking the hair out of his face.

She winces as his hands get near, even though he doesn’t touch her.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

She pauses. An hour ago, she might have said no, but looking in his eyes now, she does, absolutely. She nods, but almost takes it back when he places his hands over her knees.

“What the fuck?” she says. She tries to pull away, but he holds her firmly.

“Sorry. Hold on and be quiet so I can concentrate.”

She closes her eyes and breathes deeply through the pain. She’s experienced worse, just not in a long time. She can handle this. Within a few seconds, his hands have gotten warmer. Unnaturally warm. When her knees start tingling, she opens her eyes, expecting to see his hands or her knees glowing, or some kind of energy field around them. But everything appears as normal as it can when a half-naked man is leaning over a fully naked woman, holding onto her knees with his eyes shut as if in prayer.

He presses his lips together and puts more pressure on her knees, but this time there’s only a dull ache underneath the tingling, and that soon fades. When he takes his hands away, her knees are pink and clean. He collapses against the desk, breathing harder than he had when the were having sex, his skin pale and clammy.

“You’ve got to show me how to do that,” she says, pinching and inspecting the skin. Her old scars are still there, but there’s no sign that the rug burn was ever there.

“Unless you plan on injuring me, that’s going to have to wait.”

She laughs and pounces on him, not to hurt him, but to kiss his gorgeous mouth. “This is all so insane. I don’t know how we didn’t recognize it before.”

“Maybe we did see it but didn’t know what it was.”

“Hmm. Maybe that’s the real reason I’ve been fascinated with you since you started work.”

“You’re fascinated with me?”

“A little.” She kisses him on the nose again and starts looking around for her clothes. “Do you believe it, though? The stuff about the Force having a will? Do you think it wants us to be together?”

He pulls his shirt back on, notices it’s inside out and takes it off again. “That’s a big question that I don’t have the answer to. But I’d like to think you were fascinated with my dashing good looks and my big…brain.” The shirt goes on again, right side out, and he pulls the hood up.

“Maybe it’s both. Now, where are my leggings? All those years scavenging and I can’t find—Nevermind.” They’re balled up under the desk. There are streaks of dust on them, but most of it comes off with a good shake. She looks over at Ben, still sitting on the floor, staring at her with his mouth open. “What?”

He swallows hard and runs his hand through his hair, knocking the hood back. “Um. Nothing.”

Rey’s face burns as she realizes she was just crawling around on her hands and knees naked, her ass practically in his face. “Sorry.”

“Please,” he says, taking her hand and pulling her to him. “Don’t ever apologize for anything like that ever again.”

She laughs and accepts a kiss on the cheek. “Come on, we should find out whether we fried all the equipment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, chapter count increased again. I'm pretty sure the next one is really the last one, though.  
> Thank you again for all the comments!


	5. Chapter 5

Everything in the van checks out, though the dark screens and lights sent them into a minor panic before realizing the surge of energy had only caused the electronics to shut off, not break down.  Once the systems are rebooted, and the rest of the van is in order, they settle back in at the desk, swiveling their chairs to face each other, with Rey propping her feet on Ben’s thighs. She opens a packet of crisps—plain this time—and tosses him one of his own.

“What’s your best power?” she asks.

“Define ‘best.’”

“The one that other people would think is the most amazing. Or the one you think is the most amazing.”

He shoves a few crisps in his mouth and contemplates while he chews. “Mind reading, for both.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No.”

“You can read thoughts?”

“Kind of.”

“How did you not know how hot I was for you?”

“It doesn’t work like that, exactly. I can’t do it passively. I have to focus and direct it. And it’s not very comfortable for the other person.  I can sense emotions pretty easily, though.”

“Oh?” She starts working the tangles out of her hair with her fingers, and the pressure of her heels on his thighs is somehow comforting.

“I mostly tune it out, though. It doesn’t seem fair. And sometimes I block it out so well that I miss the regular cues. So then I come off like an insensitive ass.”

 “Wow. That explains so much about you. So, what am I feeling right now?”

 “Happy.”

“That’s easy enough to guess,” she says.

“Well,” he says, taking the challenge. “There’s happiness, and fear, and longing, and they’re all sort of swirling together, but each one peaks, like waves, one after the other. Is that better?”

“I’m not afraid,” she assures him. “Not really. I mean, I’m not saying you’re wrong but it’s not the bad kind of fear.”

He puts his hands on her ankles, stilling her restless feet. “I’m afraid, too.”

“Afraid of how… enormous all this feels?”

“Yes. I grew up hearing all about my mother and father and how they fell in love against this backdrop of war. Something I can’t even imagine. And I always felt insignificant, until now.”

“And it feels stupid, right? Because we’re not galactic war heroes or Jedi. We work in a tiny office, in a dirty city. And our work is good and important, but we’ll never fight anything bigger than a few corporations and gangsters, but this,” she says, gesturing to the space between them, “Feels like something out of one of those epic holo shows.”

“What if we didn’t work in a tiny office in a dirty city?”

“Ben Solo, are you asking me to run away with you?”

She’s teasing him, her eyes bright and full of mischief, but for a second, he considers chucking it all, getting the Falcon from his father and flying away with her.  But to do what? Find a war to fight? Liberate planets that are too remote for the Republic to take care of? Or they could simply travel, showing her his favorite corners of the galaxy and discovering new ones, until their money runs out.  All so tempting, but not what he meant. His thoughts had gone down another path, an alternate past rather than an alternate future.

“I was thinking what if the Empire hadn’t been completely defeated.  There were rumors that the remnants went to the Unknown Regions but were never heard from again. There are things out there that even my uncle couldn’t fathom. What if they hadn’t gotten lost, but came back somehow. I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like my dreams aren’t dreams.”

“Visions? I get those.”

“Sometimes. But some of them are different from that, even. Like I’m seeing flashes of what my life is like in another reality. And that reality is dark and frightening.”

“How so?”

“It’s nothing but pain and rage. I can’t see myself clearly through it. I feel trapped in it, like I’m walking around inside a black hole that’s shaped like me, and sometimes I can’t shake it when I wake up.”

Rey puts her feet on the floor and leans forward. “Do you ever dream about a forest?” she whispers.

His stomach drops. He has dreamt about a forest. Two of them. One lush, verdant, the air heavy with humidity, his clothes clinging to him, making him feel more claustrophobic than he already does in these dreams. The smell of life and the sea mixed with smoke and dust. The other, cold with the artificial darkness of an eclipse, the air wet and stinging, his heart cleaved by longing, by shame, by despair.

In both, the crackle of a lightsaber. In both, he is aware that he must find something, someone, chasing it desperately.

His tongue is thick and his throat dry, so all he can do is nod at her question.

“It was you, then,” she says. “You were the one chasing me.”

He nods again, and she stands, taking the two steps to stand between his knees, bending over him. She takes his face in her hands and he melts into it, yielding preemptively to whatever she’s going to say, whether it’s acceptance or rejection.

Rey’s feelings have continued spinning, but when she looks at him, one surfaces, clear and warm.  Compassion. “It’s not you, though, is it? Not really.”

“I could have become that, though. If things were different. I still could. My mom and uncle were always so afraid of it. Maybe they were right to be.”

She searches his face, brow furrowed, and shakes her head. “If what we saw were shadows of what could have been, I think something big happened.”

“You don’t think a person can be fundamentally dark, at their core?”

“You’re the one who knows more about the Force, but I don’t think so. I think a lot more goes into it than that.”

And then, she kisses him, and it doesn’t matter anymore, at least for now.

 

* * *

 

 

Rey thinks that perhaps they shouldn’t distract themselves from the revelation that they’ve known each other in dreams or visions, but kissing him is so much fun, for one, and she’s afraid that if they do talk about it anymore the panic that’s simmering underneath the warm glow of newfound intimacy will bubble to the surface and overwhelm her. Overwhelm them both, if he’s still tuned into her emotions.

She’s not afraid of the phantom of what he might have been; she’s terrified by how much bigger this is than a consummated workplace crush. Is there a reason they’ve been brought together this way, that they may have been brought together in a different, more violent timeline in a different, more violent way?

There have been rumblings, despite the prosperity in the galaxy, that the Republic doesn’t do enough, doesn’t act quickly enough, doesn’t always care enough. Could the few calling for order in the galaxy swell into a force big enough to topple the Republic?

It’s too frightening to consider. Even though the government is relatively new, it’s all she’s ever known.

So instead of thinking about that, of their place in whatever struggles are to come, she kisses Ben Solo’s sweet mouth and combs her fingers through is thick hair. She could let him take her clothes off again, let him put that mouth all over her and pant her name so low it reverberates in the deepest parts of her. Let him fill her up over and over, pain becoming pleasure and then pain, again, in the most delicious way.

She could take him in her mouth, as many silky, slippery inches as she can manage, roll her tongue over him until he can’t help but grasp at her hair.

There is so much they could do, in this van, and in this galaxy. But she focuses, for now, on his lips, and his hand underneath her shirt, resting on the small of her back, anchoring her to the present.

“Come home with me,” he gasps. “When we’re finished with work?”

They’ll have the whole day off after they transmit the morning shift data.  She nods, because it sounds like the best idea, to continue this in a real bed, and because she can’t go home and face her roommates without spilling everything. Rose has an uncanny ability to sniff out secrets (literally when it comes to sex) and Rey would rather have this to herself for as long as possible.

“We have to get breakfast first, though,” she says. “I know a great place.”

“Of course you do.”

“Listen, they have pancakes the size of your face. She kisses him again and goes back to her chair, spinning it fully around once before going back to their work. She really does need to finish this assignment.

Ben pulls out his datapad again as well and groans about his work load. As the silence settles, she can’t help but imagine what it would be like to hang out with him like this at his house on a regular basis. Not even kissing or making love, just doing their thing, with the other nearby.  

“Hey,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“It may seem stupid considering but, um, is this, going forward, I mean…” He trails off and sighs, running his hands through his hair.

“Are you asking if I want to be your girlfriend?”

“It does sound stupid when you put it that way.”

The word is too small and completely inadequate. And as much as it feels like they know each other, they don’t really.

“Maybe, we don’t call it anything. I have no desire to start seeing anyone else.”

“Me neither.”

“Okay then,” she nods. “We’ll just…see. Though I probably should meet your family. I have a lot of questions.”

“You’re right. But informally. One at a time. Trust me, it’s better for both of us.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

She reaches out and takes his hand, looking down at it, how it engulfs hers. She looks at him and beyond him, at the possibility of him, and of them, and it feels both like standing at the edge of a cliff and like leaving atmosphere for the first time. Except now, she’ll have someone beside her.

And that makes all the difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this final chapter took a bit longer. I wasn't feeling well and then I ended up changing a lot of what I had in my draft. But I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you once again for all of your comments and for coming along on this little experimental journey!


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